"But you see a figure, correct?"
"Right. Okay. Height is..." The figure wobbled, and I cursed under my breath. "Taller than me, shorter than you. An average man or very tall woman. Weight..." Again the figure shimmered, and I had to rely on my initial impression. "Slender. That's all I can say. Thin to average. As for build, the cloak hides it, but--"
The figures evaporated.
CAPRICIOUS
The moment Gabriel stepped from the fun house, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. They had cell service again.
"Please tell me it's a complete coincidence that we got service as soon as I received my vision message," Olivia said.
"Given the number of times it's happened, I sincerely doubt it."
"When I say 'please tell me,' I mean 'please lie to me.' "
"Ah. Well, perhaps the cell phone outage was caused by the snowfall, which interfered with the electromagnetic field and thereby disrupted cellular frequency reception."
"Not a science major, were you?"
"No."
"Me neither, so it sounds totally legit."
He called for a tow truck as they walked to where the hound waited. Then he surreptitiously checked that incoming text. When it wasn't the one he was expecting, he grumbled under his breath.
Olivia said he'd told her to keep the weekend clear. He had...but not for work. He had plans. A weekend away. Together.
He would tell her it was a well-earned vacation. Which it was. However, it also marked an occasion. Six weeks since her breakup with Ricky. Not an occasion she'd want to celebrate. Gabriel, on the other hand...
He was loath to say their breakup came as a cause for celebration. Olivia had been happy, and Gabriel wanted that. Yet Ricky was not the only person who could make her happy. Perhaps not even the one who could make her happiest.
No, Gabriel was not displeased by the breakup. "Relieved" was a better word. Suitably un-gleeful. Relieved, because the alternative would have been wooing her away from Ricky, which made him uncomfortable. Immensely, if he was being honest. It came too close to repeating Gwynn's mistake.
Gabriel had decided six weeks was a respectful period. He'd planned this getaway down to the last detail. Rent a cabin with two bedrooms, so as not to set up awkward expectations. Arrange catered dinners, to be followed by a blazing fire, a comfortable couch, and vintage wine. He would drink exactly half a glass, enough to relax without risking actual inebriation. Olivia rarely exceeded her glass-and-a-half personal limit, but if she did, he'd cancel his plans and try again the next night. And by "try again" he meant making the most subtle of moves, escalating incrementally so if he encountered resistance, he could withdraw before she realized his intention. Even if she failed to respond to his overtures, it wouldn't mean he'd failed. Not permanently. He would resume his careful wooing, showing her that he could be what she needed.
He knew she cared for him. He knew she wanted to be with him in some way. It was simply a matter of inching toward a destination he was confident they could reach, eventually.
Now he waited for a response to his earlier text, informing the ca
bin owner that they would be unexpectedly bringing a canine. He was not asking permission--that wasn't how one handled such matters. But he was aware that negotiations--and an extra fee--might be involved. That was fine. While having Lloergan there was hardly ideal, in accommodating that, he would please Olivia. He had encouraged her to "dog-sit," knowing it would impede his secret weekend plans, and thereby honoring his pledge to Ricky that, whatever happened, he wouldn't interfere with their friendship.
Lloergan would join them for the weekend, and that would not disrupt his plans. Nothing would disrupt his plans. Particularly not...
At the thought of Seanna, his jaw tightened. All Gabriel's life, he'd refused to hate his mother. She wasn't worth it. Even as a child, he'd tolerated her much as one might tolerate a debilitating condition. Accept that it exists and learn to deal with it, and if it goes away, then count that as a blessing but understand that it might return.
For fifteen years, he'd understood Seanna might return. Then Olivia found proof that she was dead, and Gabriel had finally exhaled. His mother was out of his life forever.
And now, perhaps, she'd come back, and for the first time he felt not just anger, but a lick of something dangerously close to rage. Like a child who wants to stamp his feet and say, "No, no, no!"
You will not come back now, Seanna. You will not. He was inches away from a perfect life, and she would not ruin that. Would not.
"Hey, Lloe." It took a moment to realize what Olivia was saying. When she called the dog Lloe, it sounded like Thloy, more of a complex exhalation than an actual word. He still struggled with the hound's full name, which sounded something like Thl-oy-r-gan. When he had to say it, he did so quickly, in hopes speed would cover mispronunciation.
The hound hopped off the fun-house steps. The move was awkward, the cwn's joints having never quite healed, but that didn't stop her from leaping when she saw them. She walked to Olivia and waited for her ear-scratch. Then she looked at Gabriel, and he was never certain whether that look meant she expected the same from him or she was telling him he'd better not try it. Perhaps she was simply acknowledging--with some chagrin--that he was still there.
They started for the exit. Olivia was talking. He listened--he always listened--but it wasn't the kind of chatter requiring his undivided attention. She wasn't ready to discuss the vision. She'd be processing that while talking about something inconsequential, perhaps to ensure he wouldn't broach the subject until she was ready.
It was in that state, listening to her while processing thoughts of his own, that he became acutely aware they were not alone. He looked about.